


Weird Little Greasepit - Sophomore Year - December

by appending_fic



Series: Weird Little Greasepit - Sophomore Year [4]
Category: Buddy Thunderstruck (Cartoon), Night In The Woods (Video Game), 摇滚藏獒 | Rock Dog (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Magic, Bisexual Male Character, Curses, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Mystery, Mystery Character(s), Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 01:05:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14605824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: When the Phantom of the Labrea High Talent Show takes out the bass player in Greggory Lee's band, he goes to Buddy Thunderstruck for help, because his go-to for this sort of thing is nursing a broken arm. Everyone hopes the gym doesn't end up on fire this time.





	Weird Little Greasepit - Sophomore Year - December

"Uh-oh." Buddy ducked down behind the counter at Ziel's, an incomplete ruse given that his ears were poking out from behind. Darnell tried to stifle a snicker.

"Buddy, you can get up. Leeroy knows you hang out here."

Buddy's ears twitched, anxious, as he kept his crouched position. "I am not worried about Leeroy. I am worried about _them_." He jerked a finger toward the nacho machine.

Danrell looked over to see a cat, black, with too-wide red eyes, lounging against the counter in front of the paper bowls. They were dressed...grungy. Heavy boots, scuffed jeans, a pale blue t-shirt with a scribble of black on it that looked like they might have done the work themselves. Their right arm was in a cast. And next to them, adding cheese to a bowl Darnell couldn't be certain had _any_ chips in it, was a fox, slim, fur a dusky gold shade, dressed in a leather jacket, similarly distressed jeans and boots, and a spiked helmet with an anarchy sticker slapped across the side of it. They looked up, met Darnell's eyes, and grinned, a sharper expression than Buddy's own smiles.

Still.

Darnell felt his cheeks heat as the fox sauntered over.

"Hey, I know you, right? Labrea High?"

"Uh...yeah?"

"Hey, I'm Gregg."

"D - Darnell. Can I help you?"

Gregg gave Darnell a long once-over before smirking, and he could feel his ears join his cheeks, blush obvious to anyone looking. "I've got a couple of ideas about that."

"Oh my god, Gregg." The cat pushed past Gregg, slapped five dollars onto the counter and looked up at Darnell, scowling when they realized he was more than a few inches taller than them. "You're friends with Buddy, right? Thunderstruck?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, because he has been avoiding us and we need to talk to him like-"

"Yesterday would've been way cooler," Gregg interjected. "Before Mae broke her arm."

"Yeah, whatever. Water under the bridge. Now…" The cat, Mae, looked pointedly at Buddy's ears poking up from behind the counter. "Any idea where we can find Buddy?"

Buddy's frantic wave of his hands made clear exactly what Darnell was supposed to say. But he was still a little flustered by Gregg's attention, those bright green eyes still fixed on him intently, and didn't know what the two of them would do if he gave them an obvious lie.

"If he's avoiding you, it's probably for a good reason."

Mae rolled her eyes and pulled herself up onto the counter, looking down over the edge at Buddy. "Hey, Buddy! How've you been?"

Buddy, caught out, raised a hand to wave at Mae, grinning a little weakly. "Pretty awesome. You know how it is."

"Can you stand up so we can have a conversation?"

Buddy sighed and stood; Mae scowled when he managed to top her height, even while sitting on the counter. She dropped back down next to Gregg, kicked them in the ankle, and Gregg cleared their throat.

"Heyyy, Buddy."

Buddy had shoved his hands into his pockets, not meeting Gregg's eyes. "How are you doing?"

"Not good. Pretty terrible actually. Mae broke her arm." Gregg waved a hand at Mae's cast. "We were going to play in the Longest Night talent show. Can't do that without a bass player."

Buddy's eyes lit up, going wide, as he slammed his hands on the counter. "And you need me to play with you!"

"No. No. No. You are the single worst bass player I have ever met in my life." Mae pushed Buddy's hands back and glanced at Darnell. "I'd trust him over you, and I have no idea if he can even keep a beat."

"Wow." Buddy fell back, ears drooping. "You got _mean_ , Killer."

Mae's eyes narrowed. She took a deep breath, and as she exhaled, Darnell heard a whispered, "eight, nine, ten." And then she clapped Gregg on the shoulder, grabbed the bowl of cheese and strolled toward the exit. "You can get this back when you finish the job, Gregg!"

"Fart nuggets," Gregg muttered. They glanced up at Darnell and gave him a hesitant smile. Darnell wondered if Leeroy would get mad if he left his post just to avoid having to talk to customers who may or may not have been flirting with him. He gave Buddy a sidelong look, trying to piece out Buddy's thoughts on the matter, but Buddy looked a little morose. Pensive.

"Look, I'm not supposed to let people just hang out here," Darnell blurted out eventually. "So...maybe we can talk later?"

Gregg 'tsked' and pointed at Darnell. "We are going to put that in the Maybe Pile, but Mae and I came for help."

"I do not see what sort of help you need if you are not looking for my awesome musical talents."

"Um." Gregg scratched at their helmet. "You _are_ sort of terrible. Sorry. But we need your help with something...spookier?"

Darnell felt a thrill in his chest at the oblique request, and could see a twitch in Buddy's ears.

"I would not think there was anything you and Killer would need help with."

"Okay, can you _stop_ calling her that?" Gregg snapped, slamming their palm onto the counter, making the 'leave a penny' bowl rattle.

Buddy had retreated, ears flicked back at the outburst. Gregg was huffing, glaring at Buddy, but didn't seem inclined to do much more. Darnell pulled his hand slowly away from the bat Leeroy kept under the counter.

"Sorry," Buddy said softly. "I thought Mae liked that nickname, like, she is a super awesome dangerous fighter."

"Yeah, it'd be cooler if she hadn't...yeah." Gregg glanced down, away from Buddy and Darnell. "And we can totally handle ourselves. Or definitely could have before Mae broke her arm."

"How did that happen? Mae is like a tiny cat ninja?"

Greg growled, deep in their throat. "The Phantom of the Labrea High Talent Show."

It was not, apparently, some ancient curse. Three years ago, accidents had started befalling the more talented participants in the Labrea High Talent Show. Some of them perfectly ordinary, some of them more ludicrous or outlandish. But the targets, and the timing, made it clear to all of the theater and band kids that there was someone haunting them.

"Yeah, most people blame it on the fact Mister Moon wouldn't stop calling the Scottish Play...you know, it's name, when they put it on four years ago," Muncie opined later over the hot wings Buddy had demanded they needed as part of their strategy session, because Buddy and Muncie had lied about their level of involvement in the supernatural nonsense of Greasepit. They had a _reputation_ (mostly of getting out of stuff mostly unscathed, but that made people take notice). "A lot of the kids with any actual, you know, talent, have stopped participating. Except Greggory Lee and his band of reckless assholes, and…" She stopped, staring at the list of talent show participants Gregg had provided them once Buddy agreed to help out, and then clenched her fist around it, snarling. " _Angus Scattergood_. Come on, let's go pound some answers out of that stupid cat."

Darnell had asked, once, what Muncie had against Angus Scattergood, and had decided it wasn't a good idea to do so again. Buddy had confided _no one_ had been able to get a straight answer out of her on the subject.

In any case, Darnell might have tried to rein in Muncie's jumping to conclusions in any other situation, but it _was_ a pretty solid hypothesis, so as long as they kept her from actually kicking Angus' ass, questioning him wouldn't be a bad idea.

He had something else to worry about, anyway, namely a piece of paper with Greggory Lee's phone number on it. He had...not gotten around to mentioning to Buddy that he was (theoretically) bisexual, making the possibility of meeting up with friendly, chatty Gregg, who looked like the bad boy Carmilla had first implied Buddy was, slightly more daunting than the mere prospect of being asked out by a hot guy would have been (it was daunting enough, Darnell's current romantic experience consisting entirely of a girl trying to suck all of his blood out through his neck).

He licked his lips, nervous, and nudged Buddy's arm (it had been decided not to be sitting too close to Muncie while she fumed about the crimes, imagined or otherwise, of Angus Scattergood).

"Gregg isn't like a, werewolf or demon or alien or anything, is he?"

"What? No. Why do you ask?"

_Because I think he asked me out and I want to make sure you're not worried he's going to try and kill me like the last person who said they were interested._

Nope.

" _Artichoke_ doesn't intimidate you, and you were hiding behind the counter to avoid talking to Gregg."

"Oh." Buddy's ears flattened against his head. He scratched at the back of his head and shrugged. "I sort of accidentally almost burned down the gymnasium last year, and let Gregg and Mae take the blame. I have not talked to either of them since."

"That is…" Well, it explained why Buddy had been hiding rather than confront the two of them. "And what about that thing you called Mae? 'Killer'?"

"Ugh, I am so embarrassed. She and Gregg are hardcore - like, Artichoke-level - knife fights in the woods, free-running around town, the works. So when she beat up Andy Cullen during a softball game last year and everyone started calling her 'Killer' I thought - apparently, it is a sore spot."

"Beat up - he didn't _die_ , did he?"

"Oh! Oh, no. He is fine. Well, his parents moved him to Gearshaft, which is a hole, but he survived without any lasting damage."

"That's...good." He briefly considered asking how Buddy felt about Gregg being gay (or whatever), but realized he had no idea what Buddy knew about Gregg.

"Alright, we're here. Grab a baseball bat or something."

Darnell shot Buddy a frantic look. "Are we really going to-"

"Hey, Muncie, how about we leave the blunt objects in the car until we have had a chance to talk to Angus?"

She stared at Buddy for a moment that stretched long enough Darnell was worried she was actually going to deck him.

"Fine." She turned, storming toward the front door, leaving Darnell and Buddy to hurry after her.

It was strange, coming onto Angus Scattergood's home. Darnell had sort of assumed the aspiring rock god came from enough money that his grungy look was artful. The rundown, grimy duplex in front of them told a different story. The grass in front was struggling, the porch creaking under their weight, and door covered in bubbled, peeling green paint.

Muncie rapped on the door sharply. After a minute without a response, she raised her fist again, and nearly hit Angus in the forehead when he pulled the door open. He looked a little flushed, panting, and his ears were on alert. The sight of Muncie seemed to ease whatever anxiety had been moving him before, as he leaned back against the door.

"Hello, love, what's hanging?"

"Oh, lay off it," Muncie snapped. "We're here about the talent show."

Angus ducked, ears flattening out to the side as he took a hurried step back. His sunglasses kept Darnell from seeing Angus' eyes, but he was certainly eyeing Muncie warily. "W - what about the talent show? I don't know anything about the talent show - I have zero talent, ask anyone-"

And okay, that was sounding a little guilty. Buddy had the presence of mind, or at least enough experience with his cousin, to lunge forward to hold her back when she took a menacing step toward Angus. Angus, for his part, bolted inside, ramming into the wall as he took a corner wide. Thundering footsteps suggested he'd headed up a set of stairs.

"Are you going to calm down, or are we going to have to wrestle this out right here?" Buddy was asking Muncie. She glowered, but stopped tugging against the arms around her stomach. Buddy unlatched his hands and took a step back. He shrugged at Darnell.

"Are we going to follow him?"

" _Yes_ ," Muncie growled.

" _No_ ," Buddy said. When Muncie turned on him, he raised his hands, defensive. "Look, Muncie, Angus is clearly terrified of you. We need to send in someone, you know, non-threatening."

Which was why Darnell was peeking into the doors on the second floor, which had so far yielded a bathroom and a messy room that looked more like it belonged to a middle-aged man than a teenage boy. He had high hopes for the third door at the far end of the hall at the back of the building. He knocked, first.

"Angus? It's Darnell Fetzervalve? From trigonometry?"

"Go away."

"Angus, something really weird is going down with the talent show, and I've got a hunch you know something about it."

"It's a thing. Where people show off their, you know, talents. For a prize. $100 and a trophy."

Darnell rolled his eyes and sat down next to the door, stretching out his legs so if Angus bolted, he'd trip over Darnell. "Come on, Angus. You're passing trig; you're not stupid."

"You've got to promise Muncie Thunderstruck is not hiding around the corner to punch me in the face. That's my money-maker, you know."

"Buddy didn't let her come up here. It's just me."

The door swung open. Angus looked down at Darnell's feet, and then back up to Darnell's face. "Planning to trip me up if I tried to run?"

Darnell shrugged, clambering to his feet. "Considered it."

"Well, come in," Angus muttered, waving Darnell in. He was used to seeing Angus in class or, once, onstage, so the realization he wasn't even as tall as Darnell's shoulder threw Darnell for a minute.

Angus' room was about what Darnell would have expected, messy, walls covered in rock posters, his guitar lovingly held up on a stand. Angus threw himself onto his bed, face-up so he was staring at the ceiling.

"Well, get on with it."

"What's going on with the talent show, Angus?"

"Look, I don't want to hurt anyone. Some people's things are hokey, or really just...terrible, but it's supposed to be fun, right?"

"O...kay. Good to hear it."

"But back in middle school, when I got my first guitar, my da was all, 'you're never gonna amount to anything, you mangy fleabag', you know, usual parent stuff, so I went down to the music store to see if I could get, like real lessons, and this chap made me an offer."

"An offer?"

"Yeah, he'd help me make a name for myself, get a record deal, all that. Sounded like a good deal, and then…" Angus trailed off. "I'm about the music, okay? Didn't think to read all the subclauses and whatnot, so suddenly people are losing their stage animals, forgetting the words to things, getting their larynxes bruised-"

"Wait wait wait. Sub-clauses? Did you sign some sort of contract?"

"Yeah, course. Even as a kitten I knew you don't trust anyone in the music business if you don't have it in writing."

"But you didn't know you should know what you're signing?"

"Shove it," Angus grumbled, but he rolled off his bed and ducked under a desk, fumbling for several moments before emerging with a thick sheaf of papers. "You see how much stuff is in here? It would've taken _forever_ to read, and anyway, he already told me the, you know, gist."

"The gist," Darnell muttered, flipping through the alarmingly dense documents, trying to find something that stood out. "What exactly are you giving up for all your musical fame?"

"My dreams. You know, aside from being a rock god."

"You signed a contract giving a guy your _dreams_ , and you didn't think there was anything weird about that?"

"Oh, come off it, everyone does stupid things when they're twelve!"

Darnell reached the last page of the contract, having made no sense of it, and his eyes fell on the signature lines.

"Not _this_ stupid."

Buddy and Muncie were waiting outside, sitting on the hood of Muncie's car. Darnell yanked the front passenger's side door open and threw himself in. " _Get in_ ," he ordered when he saw neither Buddy nor Muncie had moved. "Your house," he added, once Muncie was in.

"So…" Buddy started after the first few minutes of silence. "Does Angus know anything?"

"He has a contract, which he has not read, signed in blood by some guy named _Cypher_ , so _no_ , I can safely say Angus does not know _anything_."

"Cypher?"

"It's an alias," Darnell sighed. "For the Devil. 'Lou Cypher', 'Lucifer'. You'd have to be a brain-dead idiot blinded by ambition to fall for something like that."

"Par for the course," Muncie muttered.

"I'm beginning to agree with you there."

"So what are we doing?"

Darnell waved the contract at Buddy. "We are going to read this thing and figure out exactly what the hell is going on and fix it before Angus' contract gets someone killed."

An hour later, Darnell was rapidly approaching the point of agreeing with Muncie's suggestion of just punching Angus until the problem resolved itself. The contract was incomprehensible, sub-clauses referring to footnotes defined in appendices that themselves referred to additional clauses.

"The best I can tell," Darnell announced over the Thunderstrucks' kitchen table, "is that the Devil has guaranteed Angus success in his musical career, and that probably empowers him to sabotage anyone who might threaten that."

"Huh." Buddy reached across and took the contract, flipping through it at random. "That seems like a lot of words for just that."

"Yeah, that's contracts for you, hundreds of pages defining every possible situation that might be covered by the contract. I'm betting three-quarters of the contract is just keeping Angus from backing out."

"Huh," Buddy said, frowning at the text. "The entity known as 'Angus Scattergood', henceforth called Applicant, renders to the Claimant full possession and control of Applicant's dreams - ugh, this _is_ awful. Can I take a look at it?"

"Knock yourself out," Darnell allowed "I've got trigonometry to do."

"Ew, I will take the incomprehensible contract with the Devil any time. 'Applicant may refer to a collective or partnership including Applicant as a member or acting under their direction...' Okay, this is _barely_ better. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Ka-boom." They bumped fists, leaving Darnell to beg a ride home from Muncie while Buddy tried to make sense of the contract.

The next morning, Buddy caught Darnell by his locker. Buddy's eyes were red, fur mussed, and he had the contract clutched tight in his hands. "Darnell! I figured it out! We need Angus and Gregg and Mae's band and maybe a notary."

Buddy swayed on his feet when Darnell considered a response. Sleep-rumpled was a good look on Buddy; sleep-deprived, though, was not.

"I've got a better idea. How about we stash you somewhere to sleep and we can figure out your plan after school."

Buddy nodded, slowly, like he couldn't quite process his thought. "That is probably for the best. There should not be a lot of people around when we try this."

"Buddy?" Darnell asked, a knot of anxiety in his stomach. "Are we going to burn down the school? My mom's already heard about my 'delinquent friends' from Principal Moneybags."

"We are not going to burn down the school!" Buddy protested. "At least not on purpose."

Texting Mr. later to help check in and make sure no one bothered Buddy, Darnell resolved to get the whole story about the gymnasium from Buddy later, once the Devil was no longer threatening the integrity of the high school's annual talent show.

Angus was easy to track down, and it didn't take much prodding to get him to agree to join them after school to resolve the whole 'deal with the Devil' situation. Mae and Gregg were harder; eventually, Muncie and he had to corner Casey Hartley, who was the drummer for Mae and Gregg's band. He was a lot less intimidating than either of his bandmates, scruffy, ginger-haired, and drumming absent-mindedly on the back of the chair in the auditorium where they found him. He turned, grinning at Muncie when he saw her.

"Hey, Munce."

"Casey."

Casey raised one eyebrow, flicking a lock of hair away from his eyes, before glancing at Darnell. "I don't think we've met. Casey."

"Ah. Darnell." Casey's other eyebrow rose, and he smirked; Darnell realized too late Casey was Gregg's friend, and then he was flushing.

"The famous Darnell," Casey drawled, kicking his feet, clad in battered once-white sneakers, onto the back of the chair in front of him. "What can I do for you, Munce and the Famous Darnell?"

"Uh-"

"Buddy's got some ideas about fixing your talent show problem, but your bandmates are suspiciously difficult to find."

Casey shrugged. "Probably off doing shit." He flipped out a phone and typed out a quick message. "If you wanted to get in touch with Gregg, your boy there could've done it; I know for a _fact_ he's got Gregg's number."

" _Does_ he? I guess it never came up." Darnell wondered if there was any way to avoid discussing this with Muncie. He supposed dying might do it, but even then, there was probably a necro-phone Muncie could dig up to talk to him anyway.

"Look, I'll make sure they meet you wherever after school, okay? And you-" He pointed a drumstick at Darnell, "Think about it. Gregg's a cool dude."

"Y - yeah, sure."

He excused himself from Muncie, citing his Computer Science class, but dreaded the moment he'd have to explain himself to her. He wasn't - ashamed, really. But he didn't have a bead on how she, and Buddy, and the rest of them, felt about that sort of thing. Hadn't had a chance to feel anyone out on the subject.

He'd spent so much time trying to psych himself up for it, though, that when he found Muncie, Buddy, and Angus scattered across the main stage after school, it was a bit of a letdown that he wouldn't have a chance to talk to her alone.

Buddy hopped down to meet Darnell halfway down the aisle, tugging him around with an arm around his shoulders. "Are you ready?"

"I would if I had an idea of what we were doing here," Darnell replied.

"Shenanigans," Buddy said.

"That is _almost_ the right answer." Casey, flanked by Gregg and Mae, breezed past Buddy and Darnell. "Hey, Munce!"

Muncie waved, a sort of suffering gesture, as Casey made toward her. Gregg met Darnell's eyes, winked, and sauntered after Casey, Mae in hot pursuit. Darnell's eyes drifted, traitorously, after Casey.

Buddy jostled him. "Hey, man, you ready?"

"Once again, we're going to need a plan, here."

"Oh, there is a plan." Buddy dragged Darnell after him as he jogged toward the stage. "I read that contract like sixteen times, and we are going to pull the old 'Devil went down to Georgia' on this thing."

"What."

Buddy pointed at Greggory. "Greggory, lead guitar! I'll be on vocals!"

"Casey on drums?" Casey was grinning, wide, a little manic.

"Casey on drums," Buddy agreed.

"Yesss!"

"You are _not_ touching my bass," Mae said.

"You are absolutely correct. Darnell is."

Mae turned her eyes, narrow, assessing, and, with the combination of their strange color and the knowledge she'd beaten a kid badly enough his parents had _fled Greasepit_ , he felt a flutter of anxiety.

"Buddy, I can't play the bass."

"But you _can_ play the guitar, and are, like, the smartest guy I know, ergo...you are playing the bass."

The band turned their attention on Darnell; he resisted the urge to twitch, or duck, or otherwise indicate that it would be a bad idea to hand him an expensive instrument. There was only one way he could distract himself from them _looking_ at him.

"How did you know I play guitar?"

"Thanksgiving, dude. You called to complain about your parents making you play at church out at your grandma's." Buddy gave Darnell a brief grin.

"Huh." Buddy had given all indications of not listening, then; there had been some chaos at the Thunderstruck household that had seemed to be taking most of Buddy's attention. "Well...I don't know how good I'd be at it, especially if we're going for being good enough to out-play the Devil."

"Nope, you are going to do amazing. Back me up, Muncie."

"He'd do better at it than either of us, or a girl with a broken wrist." 

"Why can't we get one of the band geeks down here?"

"Shenanigans," Buddy insisted.

That non-answer, however, seemed to win over Mae. The band broke, briefly, to retrieve instruments, and when Mae arrived, she handed over her bass, a decent instrument that seemed well-cared for. When he mentioned that fact to Mae, she stared at him, shocked, for a moment, before muttering something and retreating to stand by Gregg. She said something that made Gregg look over at Darnel and grin, toothily. Darnell ducked his head and tried to test out the bass rather than follow deal with _that_.

Buddy, who had been sitting with Angus in deep conversation, suddenly stood. "Alright, is everybody ready?"

"Um, shouldn't we be practicing or something-"

"No time! Angus, do your thing."

"What do you mean, no time?"

But Angus had taken a deep breath, and his voice cut through the air in the auditorium as he spoke.

"Under Section 4101 paren a paren 2 paren cap C of the contract signed between Angus Scattergood and the entity known as Cypher, I request mediation and arbitration of the terms of the contract, the rights, and the responsibilities of the undersigned. As detailed in Section 4101 paren a paren 3, failure to respond to this summons within 1 minute constitutes forfeiture of-"

"All rights discussed herein. Yeah, Shades, I know. I _wrote_ the damn thing."

A figure stepped into a spotlight Darnell was certain hadn't been on before. The figure was...odd, both somehow less distinct and more real than their surroundings. Looking directly at them made Darnell's eyes hurt, so he looked away, keeping the vague form in the corner of his vision. The creature moved in a slow circuit of the stage, pausing at the side of each person, before returning to their spotlight.

"You brought friends. Didn't think you had any, Shades. I feel hurt you didn't tell me about them."

Darnell heard Buddy's voice, low, muttering close to Angus.

"Hey, how about you keep your mouth shut, huh, Rabble Rouser?" Buddy's voice cut off; Darnell risked a direct glance to find Buddy pulling at his jaw, trying to force it open.

It was disconcerting; a part of him had sort of hoped he was imagining the 'deal with the Devil' thing, so seeing it was unmistakably real left him feeling a little adrift.

"Are we gonna do this thing or not?"

The figure moved, impossibly fast, so it was standing within arm's reach of Casey. "Heeeey, Caboose! You're not dead! Thought I wouldn't have a chance to meet you."

"W - what are you talking about?"

"Heh. You want answers, you gotta bring something to the table, Caboose. And man, this is something I never tell people, but you have _nothing_ I want."

"Okay, how about you step away from my friend before I make you regret it?"

The being's - Cypher's - the Devil's - laughter echoed through the auditorium as they appeared next to Gregg. Darnell still couldn't _see_ what the Devil looked like, but he got the overwhelming idea of a smile. Not a good smile. Not even remotely.

"You can try if you want, Knives. But I bet your friend told you who I am. So you'd have to be _certain_ -"

There was a wet sound, and a shocked moment of silence. And then-

"MY EYE! YOU LITTLE BASTARD - DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG THESE TAKE TO _REGENERATE_?"

Mae snorted. "We could figure out how long it takes _two_ of them to regenerate."

"I bet you'd like that, Killer." There was a flurry of motion over toward Gregg, a clang, and then something flew past Darnell's face, just a hair too close for comfort.

"Don't...call...her...that."

"Eh." The figure shifted, and Darnell could feel their attention, cold, oppressive, judging, slide over him and onto Muncie. "And what do we have here? When are you going to stop just going along with these things, Bolo? You’ve got your own life to live, and spoiler alert - it’ll be a longer one if you stop hanging around with these troublemakers. I mean, not much longer, but measurably so.“

"Starting to think you're just trying to put off this negotiation, mate," Angus drawled.

The Devil paused, shifted. "Picking on your friends is _loads_ more entertaining that what you want to do. 'Hey, can I get out of my contract?' 'No, it's ironclad.' 'Please?' 'No.' 'Curse you for adhering to the provisions of our jointly-agreed contractual relationship!' See? Boring."

"What if I let you out of your side of the bargain?"

"What?"

"My mates have got a band. Thought they might be able to play better than you. So I figured we have a wager - they play better than you, you let me out of my contract. They lose, you get out of your half of it."

"Not good enough. I should be allowed to kill one of them, say, Caboose over there."

Buddy suddenly started flailing his arms at Angus; Angus squinted at him and then started speaking slowly. "Pretty sure that's prohibited under Section...306 paren...d paren...6?"

There was a shift in the Devil's position, and Buddy stopped moving. "Didn't think you were the type to buckle down and read, Shades. Yeah, you got it on the nose, though." That nightmarish focus swept over all of them again. "Hm. Alright, you let me get together my own band, and you kids got yourself a deal."

Angus held out his hand, and there was a sensation of another hand, and something like the clasping of chains around wrists, and then.

"Done! Okay, give me just a second…"

The world shifted, and then standing behind the Devil were four men, looking disoriented. Stands with worn instruments rested behind them. Angus choked.

"Are those the _Beatles_?"

"More or less. Now, I think you were going to show of your musical prowess?"

The nascent band drew together, slowly. Darnell wasn't certain about the rest of them, but _his_ stomach was knotting nervously. Agreeing to go along with this plan, he had not expected to have to pit his bass skills against Paul McCartney's.

"What are we playing?" Gregg asked Buddy.

"Does everyone know Shout it Out?" There was a series of nods, Darnell's more hesitant because the rest of them probably had at least a year on hearing Angus' music over him. "Good." He turned. "Hey, Paul, George. John. Ringo. We're Angus Scattergood, and this is 'Shout it Out'. One, two, three, four!"

They were...not bad. Buddy was, by the enthusiasm he brought, probably a shower singer. And Darnell knew the theory well enough to keep the bassline going through the song. Gregg was...pretty good, jamming with loose focus that made him look good. And Casey was enthusiastic, wild, a blur across the drum set. Darnell suspected Casey had some stuff to work out in his music.

Or just _really_ liked the drums.

It was a pretty good performance, all told. Not good enough, though, to beat one of the more iconic rock bands of the twentieth century.

But as they finished, Buddy was grinning, a smirk, that he turned on Cypher.

"That was awesome, right?"

"I mean, for a high school band, sure. But Angus, here, is better than all of you _without_ my help, and John and the boys are _way_ better, so, I'm thinking 'Hey Jude'?"

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

There was a pointed silence. "You're trying to psych me out. You're trying to _mess with me_."

Buddy shrugged. "You are certainly entitled to your opinion."

"...Do you know what? I'm feeling up for a laugh. Why don't you tell me why you think I shouldn't have Lennon show you how it's done?"

"Section a."

"What?"

"The entity known as 'Angus Scattergood', henceforth called Applicant, renders to the Claimant full possession and control of Applicant's dreams. In exchange, Claimant will provide guaranteed success in all musical endeavors, to include but not limited to, performances, auditions, contests, wagers and competitions'."

"Angus wasn't even playing!"

"Ah! But, to quote Section b paren 2, 'Applicant may refer to a collective or partnership including Angus Scattergood as a member or acting under his direction'." Buddy hopped forward, mouth in a wide grin. "So, to lay it all down for you: you engaged in a musical wager against Angus Scattergood, pitting your favored musical group-"

"More a grunge man, myself."

" _Pitting your favored musical group_ against a collective, known as 'Angus Scattergood', which was acting under the direction of Angus Scattergood. Which means, man, you have two options - let us win, and let Angus out of his contract, or beat us, and, to quote Section d, 'forfeit all rights detailed herein'."

Cypher made a short, choked noise, and then fell silent. No one else spoke for a long moment. Darnell wasn't certain what everyone else was thinking, but he was stuck in a moment of...well, shock. Buddy wasn't stupid, but he could get lost in the aisles at Ziel's, struggled with anything more complicated than middle-school algebra, and Darnell had never seen him read anything more complicated than engine specs.

"The… _fuck_!" Cypher snarled. "This was a _scam_!"

"I am pretty sure _you_ are the one who was making fun of Angus, here, for not reading the contract. Now, you wanted your friends to play 'Hey Jude'-"

"They are _not_ ," Cypher growled. There was a snap, and the Beatles were gone. "And you know what? Enjoy your victory while you can, Rabble Rouser. Because you're going to keep playing this game, and you can't beat the odds forever. It might be you, or Knives, or Caboose, over there, but one of you's gonna be dead by graduation. _Ciao_!"

The world was suddenly back to normal, except for the knowledge that they had, collectively, crossed the Devil, and were likely doomed to lives of danger and excitement until one of them died.

"Woo!" Casey yelped. "You kicked _ass_ , Thunderstruck!"

"Heh, yeah, I _was_ pretty awesome," Buddy agreed.

"Celebratory pizza?" Mae asked.

"Yes!" Buddy cheered.

Pizza ended with Mae and her gang going off for 'crimes', Angus off to guitar practice now that he had to make his career without supernatural aid, and Darnell back to the Thunderstrucks', where he was now leaning against Buddy's bed, while Buddy bounced a tennis ball off of the wall.

"Okay, now that we've got a moment here, I have _got_ to know how you ended up framing Gregg for burning down the gymnasium."

"Oh, man, it is actually very embarrassing. We went to last year's winter formal together, one thing led to another, and it turns out creatures of elemental flame tend to explode when they die."

"You went to the winter...formal with him? Like a...dance?"

"Heh." Buddy bounced his ball against the wall again. "I know, I seem much too awesome for school dances."

That was _not_ what Darnell had been thinking. 

"But I was a dorky little freshman, and thought I could impress bad boy Gregg Lee by asking him to a dance. It turns out I _did_ impress him, but subsequently framed him for arson, which did _not_ endear me to him."

"It never does."

"But we all kicked butt out there together, right? And Darnell, you _rocked_ the bass. Come on…" Buddy reached down with a fist, which Darnell bumped in response. "Ka-boom!"

An hour later, holed up in his own room, Darnell stared at his phone, where he'd just entered Gregg's number. Buddy was _clearly_ okay with gay people, which meant, well, his friends probably weren't going to make too much of a fuss.

So the only thing standing between Darnell and a date with a cute guy was Darnell.

He closed his eyes and hit 'call'.

"Hey, Gregg? It's Darnell. If you're still up for it, I'd like to hang out some time."

**Author's Note:**

> HIPC ZFIEB QKRK NSV RRG SR ULVVI MMPT LRV KQX FP KF


End file.
